


New Motivation

by GreyLiliy



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: The Tallest spell things out in a way that even Zim understands (but so do his friends and they’ve always been in Zim’s corner—now is no different).





	New Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was in the mood to write something for Zim again (and was playing with some irritated Irken!Membrane ideas) since my last fic was a few years ago (and still good if you wanna check it out) when I saw someone post about wanting more Zim Angst to read.
> 
> As someone who entered a competition for Angst Queen, clearly it pinged my interest. Love angst. Love reading it. Love writing it. So I inquired about what sort of Angst they wanted and got inspired~ Granted, this turned out less angsty than I intended, but it works! :D
> 
> Enjoy and Thanks for Reading!

“Zim,” the Almighty Tallest Red said, leaning close to the camera. His and the Almighty Tallest Purple’s faces filled his screen on Zim’s latest daily call to the Massive. They were both looking well after escaping the Florpus hole. “I’m going to say this one last time, so I hope that your computer, your broken robot, and your moose are listening because you certainly keep missing the memo.”

“Nonsense!” Zim replied, throwing his hand into the air. “I always listen to my Tallest.”

“Sure you do,” Tallest Red said. He frowned and dragged his fingers down his face before reaching over and grabbing a donut from Tallest Purple’s bag. He took a bite and spoke around his chewing. “Zim, you are not an Invader.”

“Ah, this joke again!” Zim forced a laugh and slapped his upper leg. The Tallest did so love to use that one, though he hoped at some point they’d grow tired of it and move onto new material—like making fun of GIR or the Dib-Pig. “I never grow tired of your—”

“Shut up!” Tallest Purple interrupted. He threw his arms out, knocking into Tallest Red’s side, before he shoved a donut in his own mouth. “Just stop talking and let him finish.”

“Thank you,” Red said, licking the crumbs off the tips of his claws. He pointed at the screen, flicking a drop of drool at the camera lens. It stuck in the corner, warping the picture as it dripped. “As I was saying: You are not an Invader.”

Zim felt something wriggle in his chest like that time he’d been stuffed with organs—squirming and squishy.

“It is a literal miracle that you found a planet to land on.” Tallest Red leaned back from the camera and threw himself back onto a lounge chair. He grabbed another donut. “We sent you in a random direction, but well, if you’re anything, Zim, it’s lucky.”

“Too lucky,” Tallest Purple chimed in, mouth full of the chewy confection. “Like a cockroach that won’t die.”

“Like that.”

Zim stared at the screen.

“So the point we’re getting at, is you might as well consider Earth your new Foodcourtia. You’re banished, Zim.” Tallest Red leaned forward. “It’s been annoying having you miss the point all this time and now we’re done.”

“Totally done,” Tallest Purple added.

Tallest Red continued, “You’re banished.”

“Banished.”

“If we see you leave that planet.”

“Even a step into the atmosphere!”

“If you contact us.”

“No more calling, Zim!”

“If we so much as hear a hint of your name.”

“Not even the first letter!”

“We will blow up that dirtball of a planet with you on it,” Tallest Red said. He narrowed his eyes. “No more warnings, Zim. This is it: You call us. You look in our direction. You leave that planet: You’re dead. No more banishment, no more humoring you—just dead.”

“My…my Tallest?” Zim asked, his voice cracking. “Is this a new joke?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Tallest Purple said. “Look at his face! It really sunk in this time!”

“Finally,” Tallest Red said. He lifted his fingers and waved. “But just in case you’re still in denial or stupidity, I hope at least your computer got the memo.”

“Zim is not to leave the planet or contact you, lest the planet be destroyed with us on it,” Computer said, his voice tense and sober. “I understand.”

“At least one of you does,” Tallest Red said, muttering under his breath. Zim heard it. He perked back up and grabbed another donut. “Then this is it! Bye, Zim! We never want to see you again.”

The screen clicked off, leaving a black screen in its wake.

“Computer,” Zim whispered. “Call them back.”

His Computer paused for a full minute before it replied: “No.”

* * *

“Do you want more pudding?” Clembrane asked, holding his ever-present bowl close to his chest. He pulled the spoon out to wave his hand in excitement. “I just made a fresh batch!”

A glob smacked against Dib’s glasses and he dropped his shoulders, turning his chair to face the fake-father figure. He picked up a bowl from the counter and held it out. “Sure.”

“It’s vanilla, today!” The cream colored pudding smacked into the bowl and Clembrane leaned back, looking puffed up and proud. “I’m sure this turned out much better than the butterscotch.”

“Thanks,” Dib said. He took his obligatory spoonful bite under the watchful eye of the clone and swallowed: It did taste…edible. Clembrane was getting better at making pudding, despite all the odds. “It’s good. I bet Gaz’ll like some.”

“Yes!” Clembrane said. He shot out of the room, spilling drops of pudding in his wake. A small robot followed him, cleaning up the mess. “Honey! I have a new pudding for you to try.”

Dib ate another bite of pudding before dropping the spoon in the bowl and turning back to the Swollen Eyeball website to read the latest findings and updates.

He leaned back into the chair and scrolled before giving up and grabbing the bowl of pudding when he felt eyes on his back. Dib took two bites before the shadow of Clembrane peaking into the doorway disappeared. That guy really loved to make pudding.

The reports and blog posts from the anonymous members of the group scrolled by and Dib sunk further and further into his chair: He was bored.

Once, he’d found excitement in reading the findings of his fellow Swollen Eyeball members. They’d been his link to others like himself that knew there was more out there.

And then Zim had teleported their planet into deep space.

And Dib had rescued his dad from space jail.

And then they’d literally saved the planet thanks to his Dad and Minimoose.

They had foiled Zim’s biggest and most ambitious plan ever and won.

Dib had won!

Every report and post on the Swollen Eyeball network from the past month had been either about that event or discussing what they’d seen during it.

He didn’t need to read about that—he’d lived it!

He’d been in the center of it!

Agent Mothman hadn’t added a single report, post, or comment on the whole affair.

Dib wasn’t sure why.

Zim had been quiet since the event.

Maybe the little alien had really given up this time.

* * *

“Master hasn’t left his room in a while.”

“I know, GIR.”

“Is he okay in there?”

“Not really.”

“Are you gonna’ open the door? I wanna give him a pizza!”

Minimoose squealed in agreement.

“No.”

GIR dropped the pizza box. “Oh.”

“Are you gonna’ open the door now?”

“No.”

“Because Master said so or because you said so?”

Minimoose tapped his antler against the door as he floated. A steady rhythm.

“Both.”

“Oh.”

GIR watched the door.

He turned around and screamed as he ran out the door, shoving the hood of his dog costume over his head as he sprinted outside, tripping over a gnome.

Minimoose followed, albeit slower as he floated casually along.

The Computer watched, sighing heavily as he ran calculations on the random things that robot could end up doing.

They all led back to the same conclusion.

* * *

GIR crashed into their dining room at six-fifty on the dot and landed in his father’s plate.

“Look, son! It’s your little green friend’s dog,” his father said, lifting GIR by his collar and reaching across the table to drop him on Dib’s head. His father patted the robot on the head and ruffled his dog costume’s fake, green fur. “How cute.”

Minimoose floated in afterwards. He hovered in the far corner away from Dib’s father and turned upside down.

His father ignored the moose in return.

“Big Head!” GIR shouted in glee. He flopped and spread out, burying his face in Dib’s hair. as he hugged the top of his head. “Master needs someone to break his door down. You’re good at that.”

“What?” Dib asked. He reached up and pushed at the small evil robot, attempting to dislodge it. “Where is Zim? Isn’t he with you?”

“I thought we agreed no alien stuff during dinner,” Gaz said, taking a bite of pudding out of the bowl on the side—a small blessing: They’d convinced Clembrane that pudding tasted best out of its own container and not over their other food. She growled around the spoon and huffed. “Send him home.”

“I’m trying!”

“Yes! We should go!” GIR yelled. He sat up and yanked on Dib’s hair as he leaned back, holding to the cowlick. GIR spun around it with a laugh. “To the Master!”

“What are you rambling about?” Dib asked. “Get out of my hair!”

GIR did not let go.

He leaned forward and crawled until his face was plastered in Dib’s face. “We need to go now.”

“I’m eating dinner.”

“Now!”

Dib covered his ears as they rang from the robot’s scream.

As he pulled them away to catch his breath, he felt himself lift out of the chair. GIR laughed as he kept going up and Dib flailed his limbs trying to see what had grabbed him: Minimoose.

The tiny moose held him by the scruff of his coat and floated to the hole in the window.

“Put me down!” Dib yelled, still struggling. The moose ignored him and GIR kept screaming in laughter. “Dad!”

“Bye, son!” Clembrane said, waving and splashing pudding around him. “Have fun with your best friend!”

“He’s not my friend!” Dib shouted. He squirmed to get out of his coat but the moose adjusted his bite to grab Dib’s shirt instead and pulling it tight enough he couldn’t get it off. “Let me go!”

“Have fun with your friend, Son!” His father said, waving. He turned to Gaz and nodded. “It’s good that he’s socializing.”

“If you’re not back by bedtime I’ll come save your ass,” Gaz said, continuing to eat her meal. “Tell Zim I said hello.”

“Gaz!”

* * *

“In approximately five minutes, Dib Membrane will be outside your door,” the Computer said. Zim dug his claws into the ground in the corner where he’d taken to sulking. The darkness surrounded him and he nuzzled the floor. “Would you like me to let him in or just wait until he inevitably breaks the door down with the help of GIR?”

Zim sat up.

He stared at the ceiling in the general direction of the Computer’s location.

He flicked a speck of metal off his claw from where he’d dug up the floor.

Zim flopped onto his back and let his antennae tap agains the floor.

“Let him in.”

Three minutes later, the Computer opened the door—sending a blinding ray of light into the room—and GIR shoved Dib into the room, with Minimoose floating over his head as he helped himself into the open space.

“Fix him!” The tiny robot screamed before the door slammed shut. A muffled voice came though the closed door and declared “I’m making celebration nachos!”

“What is that robot’s deal?” Dib asked, stumbling back a few steps. He knocked into Minimoose and flinched, jumping away. He looked around the room before he spotted Zim and pointed. “Why’s it so dark in here?”

The Dib squinted and wandered into the room until he knocked a boot into Zim’s side. He reacted immediately: “Oh, no! I’m not falling for that again! What trick is it this time, Zim?”

“I’m going to save us all a lot of trouble,” the Computer said, speaking up before Zim could say a word. The human snapped his mouth shut and looked at the ceiling while Zim rolled over to face away from the annoying beast. “Zim figured out that he’s banished and if he leaves the planet, the Tallest will kill him and everything around him.”

The Dib didn’t say anything.

“There’s no trick,” the Computer added. “He locked himself in his room because he was upset and GIR got worried.”

Minimoose agreed with the computer.

“He thought Zim’s best friend might cheer him up.”

“Why does everyone think we’re friends!” Dib exclaimed. He put his hands in his hair and shouted in a voice that spoke of a frustration Zim knew oh too well. “I don’t understand! We hate each other!”

“I know!” Zim said, shooting up. He rolled over and threw his arms out. “As if I’d ever be friends with a stinking sack of meat!”

“You’d never even have the chance to be friends with me because I would never be friends with an alien!”

“You take that back! You should be honored to have the friendship of Zim!”

“We’re not friends!”

The Computer clicked the lights on the room on one at a time in to gradually let their eyes adjust. Minimoose danced around the room in laughter and giving his own digs of support in on both sides to rile them up further.

The two yelled at each other for another good hour in a circular argument before Zim declared “Screw the Tallest! I’m conquering this planet for myself! I’m an Invader no matter what anyone says, you worm!”

“That’s never going to happen, Zim!” Dib shouted back. “I’ve stopped you before and I’ll stop you again!”

Familiarity filled the room and the Computer hummed a small tune as he left them alone and turned his attention to GIR stirring cheese sauce in the kitchen.


End file.
